


Keep the Night

by squidshaw



Category: Kids w/ Problems RPF, Markiplier-fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Drug Use, Kissing, M/M, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 22:52:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13798029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidshaw/pseuds/squidshaw
Summary: It always feels like with Mark anything is possible; even the stuff that feels too crazy or pushes the boundaries of odd and uncomfortable, Mark will laugh, and then it all comes together. He makes it happen, Ryan fucking loves that about him.





	Keep the Night

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a recent Supermegacast where Ryan talked about smoking when they lived with Mark.

It’s late at night in California. Ryan can’t really be sure of the time and he doesn’t care enough to check. He knows he came out to the balcony around eleven, following Mark through the upstairs sliding door, Matt padding along behind Ryan. The three of them had initially settled into the lounge chairs that were littered around the wide balcony, laughing, talking, ideas for future content flowing like wine between them. It felt so easy in a weird way, easier than it should. It always feels like with Mark anything is possible; even the stuff that feels too crazy or pushes the boundaries of odd and uncomfortable, Mark will laugh, and then it all comes together. He makes it happen, Ryan fucking loves that about him. 

“Okay,” Matt says, “I’m cold as fuck.” He pushes out of his lounge chair and shivers. He’s all skin and bones, and cold in the chilly California air. He and Ryan are both southern born boys, and LA isn’t known for dipping below eighty degrees very often, but the night is cool and if Ryan focuses on it too much, he can feel the goosebumps prickling across his skin. Matt’s wearing jeans and a hoodie over his sweatshirt, and it looks like he’s contemplating heading inside. Ryan doesn’t want that, he isn’t ready for this night to end, can’t explain how it feels like if Matt leaves then the spell is broken and whatever magic is collecting around them will disappear along with Matt. 

Ryan pats the empty spot on the padded couch next to him, inviting Matt to sit down. 

“Come on, buddy,” Ryan says, “big daddy will keep you warm.” 

From somewhere in the distance Mark snorts and even though it’s dark Ryan can see Matt making a face. 

“Please don’t ever say that again,” Matt says, but he’s coming to Ryan, plopping down easily next to him, pulling his long legs up under him and unabashedly tucking himself in against Ryan’s side. Matt is a narrow and pointy line against him, but Ryan doesn’t mind. He takes comfort in the physical touch, needing confirmation that friends are here, that he isn’t alone, that he doesn’t have to be on his own if he doesn’t want to be. 

“I’ll do you one better,” Mark says, swinging his feet from where they were propped up on the patio table to the ground before he pushes himself to a standing position. He wobbles just slightly but he regains his balance fast. “Hang on,” he adds, not bothering to elaborate as he pads past Matt and Ryan on the couch and slides through the open door, closing it behind him so Lego and Chica don’t get out. 

Now, it’s just Ryan and Matt. Neither of them talks. He can’t speak for Matt, but Ryan feels like all he’s been doing lately is talking, explaining how he feels, accepting phone calls, sharing memories, telling his mom that, _“No, I don’t care, I’m **not** going to therapy.”_ So, for now, he’s happy to sit in the silence of the night next to Matt, their only contact being the feeling of Matt’s body pressing against his own. 

Just when the quiet starts to build, is so strong that Ryan can feel it around him, seeping into him, that’s when Mark returns and breaks the quiet, shatters the mesmerizing hold that the night had on him. He’s got a thick fuzzy blanket slung over his shoulder and the dim orange cherry of a lit joint between his fingers. 

“Scoot,” Mark says, nudging himself between Matt and Ryan. Matt scoots over and Mark worms his way between them, bringing the blanket and joint along. Mark is a hell of a lot warmer than Matt and considerably more comfortable as he settles in against Ryan, first spreading out the blanket over the three of them, and then taking a drag off the joint. Ryan can smell the heady scent of the prime weed that Mark is smoking; Mark always gets the good shit, a far cry from the cheap crap that Ryan was used to smoking back home. 

“Here,” Mark says, passing the joint over to Ryan with careful fingers as he exhales, silvery wisps of smoke unfurling from his mouth and evaporating into the dim night air. Ryan takes it, and then he’s only minutely aware of Mark fussing over Matt. He hears Matt’s laugh like a distant far-off cry as he takes his hit, pulling deep, too deep, and coughing a little to pay for it. Mark’s hand is on his back, patting and then rubbing, a warm and solid weight, and Ryan sinks into the touch, into the comfort of it. 

Ryan passes the joint off to Matt and he presses further into Mark’s hand, leaning his head back against Mark’s warm forearm as he stares at the glittery orange-y glow of the city surrounding them. Mark’s place – well, _their_ place – has this killer view, it’s insane, and at night it’s even more breathtaking, like something out of a movie. Ryan’s tried to photograph it several times over, but it never comes out right, he can never capture it the way he sees it in person. Through his phone everything melts into a blur of darkness and faded light, it isn’t this sparkling, almost living thing that feels like it’s breathing right alongside of Ryan. It’s just one of those things that makes Ryan glad that he’s alive, that he’s here, that the world is still turning around him. 

Mark starts pulling the blanket over Ryan too, making sure he’s covered as well. Ryan grins, feeling warm and lazy, enraptured by the night, not wanting to know the time, never wanting this moment to ever, ever end. From under the blanket Mark’s fingers brush Ryan’s and Ryan responds by taking hold of the them. Mark stills but he doesn’t pull away and then Ryan’s thumb is brushing along the tops of Mark’s fingers, feeling the warm and tanned skin. 

Mark doesn’t move, and Ryan doesn’t stop touching him. He doesn’t mean anything by it exactly, he just, he doesn’t know how to say thank you any other way than this, doesn’t feel like he can voice it, and he just hopes that Mark gets it, that this is enough. 

Ryan is pulled back into the present by a harsh cough from Matt and then a chuckle from Mark, one that he can feel vibrating against his skin, sinking into his body. 

“You two are lightweights,” Mark says, stealing the joint from Matt, his hand slipping from Ryan’s as he takes another hit, pulling as deeply as Ryan had, but he doesn’t cough, just lets loose the flood of silver from his mouth. 

“A-Am not!” Matt says through his coughs. 

Ryan just chuckles, maybe he is, he’s no pro at smoking, but he’ll indulge whenever Mark offers it, which is becoming a frequent habit these days, not that Ryan is complaining. However Mark chooses to express his grief is his business and Ryan’s not going to bring it up or nag him for his choices. Mark is his friend, his boss, and an adult who is perfectly capable of making his own decisions. 

“I could shotgun you,” Mark says, his voice low with laughter. 

“Isn’t that kissing?” Matt says, sounding pathetically young, and even Ryan laughs at him. 

“Sorta, but also not really,” Mark explains. 

“Ryan?” Matt says, because he needs a confirmation of whether Mark is fucking with him and he knows that he can somewhat trust Ryan to give that to him. 

Ryan shrugs, he could fuck with Matt, but he just doesn’t feel like it. The high is filling him, and he’s warm, comfortable, he thinks maybe he can feel Mark’s fingers scratching so lightly at the hair at the back of his neck. 

“I don’t think it’s kissing.” 

“It’d be better than you hacking up a lung out here,” Mark says, “No funny business, scouts honor.” 

“Were you ever a scout?” Ryan asks. 

“I could have been,” Mark says before he takes another hit, inhaling deep and filling his mouth with smoke. Ryan leans over to get a better view and Mark shifts away from him, so he can turn to face Matt. The blanket shifts with their movements, falling away from where it had been covering Ryan’s chest, but he doesn’t mind, he’s not cold, especially not when he’s squashed between Mark “the human radiator” Fischbach and the pillowed edge of the couch. 

Mark turns to Matt, hand on his shoulder to guide Matt close to him. From Ryan’s vantage point he can’t make out the space between the two of them, the few inches that separate their mouths, and it does look like a kiss. Something tingles in his belly, but he pointedly ignores that and tries to focus on the slight breeze of the night, on the city lights dancing around them, on anything but the idea that Mark and Matt kissing might be something he’d really like to see. 

He can see smoke billowing out between them and he can hear Mark and Matt both laughing. 

“Well fuck, you kind of suck at that too.” 

“Fuck! Well excuse me for being a good Christian boy growing up and not an experienced pot head!” 

“Hey, I didn’t smoke pot when I was younger,” Mark says, glancing up at them, “You know, at least not a lot.” 

Matt snorts and then leans back, eyes flickering between Ryan and then Mark. 

“Do it to Ryan, see how good he is at it,” Matt says, his words sounding like a challenge. 

Mark raises an eyebrow and looks pointedly at Ryan as if asking _‘what do you think?’_

That tingling feeling inches it’s way through Ryan’s stomach, insisting on a big, fat, ‘yes’, but Ryan isn’t sure. To say no might seem weirder than just going through with it. Ryan tries to think of himself as a stone, as a leaf, whatever that saying is, you know, he’s going to roll with whatever happens, accept the punches life gives him and show he can keep on standing. He doesn’t think this is really _that _serious, but the idea still stands.__

__“Okay, sure, bet I’ll be better at it than you,” Ryan teases and Matt scoffs._ _

__Mark pulls from the joint again, turning to face Ryan this time. Ryan leans in close to Mark, close enough to smell the spicy, warm scent of his cologne. He can feel the heat radiating off Mark and Ryan just kind of wants to sink into it, to disappear into it, to let Mark take care of him until things begin to make sense again._ _

__Then Mark’s hand finds his face, not his shoulder like Matt, but his chin, lifting his head and holding him steady. Ryan looks into Mark’s eyes and he’s almost embarrassed, but he feels calm at the same time. He watches Mark lean in and it’s dumb how his stupid fucking heart speeds up. He reminds himself that he isn’t going to kiss Mark, that it’s shotgunning, not a kiss, even if it looks like one, even if his body thinks that kissing Mark is suddenly the best idea it’s ever had._ _

__Ryan finds himself a little breathless and it has so much more to do with Mark than it does the silvery heady smoke that he’s about to pull into his body. Mark’s lips part as he blows a steady stream of smoke, creating a bridge between the two of them. Ryan takes the hit, breathes deeply, and sucks in the smoke, feeling it burn his lungs._ _

__Ryan’s head spins. He leans forward, hands clinging to Mark, palms skating over deep warm skin. Mark is there, and he can hear the deep rumble of Mark’s voice._ _

__“Whoa there.”_ _

__Matt is saying something, probably calling Ryan a pussy, but Ryan feels like this sudden overwhelming feeling has nothing to do with being high. He can hold his weed, he’s smoked a lot in his high school days back in the south, but what he’s feeling right now, that’s something he’s never experienced before, something new and a little scary. Not in the deep empty way that Ryan’s felt all too much, but scary in this curious way, this exciting way._ _

__“You still with me?” Mark says, and Ryan forces himself to focus, to meet eyes with Mark. He does, and Mark is watching him with warm and glazed eyes and a little smile._ _

__Ryan feels this fondness for Mark. He’s been a rock for them lately and Ryan appreciates it, appreciates anyone who can keep him floating when the whole world feels like an endless, dark ocean just waiting to swallow him up. Maybe it’s that fondness, or the weed, or the night, or all three mixed together to create this perfect storm inside of Ryan’s head, but then his fingers curl around Mark’s wrist, and then he’s leaning in, and then his lips meet Mark’s in a soft kiss._ _

__Ryan’s not sure what he’s doing. He’s never kissed a boy before, at least not when it wasn’t part of a joke or a skit. This doesn’t feel like humor and no one is laughing. Ryan can feel Matt’s eyes on him even though his own have fluttered closed, he can feel Matt breathless and watching like a ghost, like a bystander whose taking in the scene of an accident._ _

__Mark doesn’t shove Ryan away, but he also isn’t responding. His hand is still on Ryan’s shoulder and Ryan can feel the pinch of his fingers as they hold steady. Then, after a fraction of a second, Mark’s mouth moves against Ryan’s, and then Mark is kissing Ryan back._ _

__It isn’t a sexy kiss, it’s fairly innocent, just the pressure of Mark’s mouth, the warm slide of his chapped lips, the strange way his facial hair scratches against Ryan’s cheek and chin in a way he’s never experienced when he’s kissed Matt. Matt is oddly soft, lips smooth, he always assumed that it would be easy to imagine that he were kissing someone else, but Ryan’s never been that type of guy. He readily admitted that he knew it was Matt. It was a kiss, stealing the power from it made it casual, made it something that wasn’t a big deal. People usually gave up on teasing Ryan about being ‘gay’ or kissing Matt if all Ryan would ever do is shrug and admit that he had, in fact, kissed Matt._ _

__But Ryan’s never really kissed Mark. This feels different in a way, something making his heart squeeze up into his throat._ _

__“Uh?” Ryan hears Matt mumble, his voice sounding distant. He knows the way Ryan is, the way Mark is, but they all know this is unexplored territory._ _

__Matt’s words break the temporary spell over the two of them and Mark is pulling back, not fast like Ryan’s burning him, but slow and easy, like Ryan was a refreshing sip of water on a warm day. Ryan sits back and then he watches Mark’s eyes flutter open, watches the smile that fills them, the warm brown shiny with the glaze of weed._ _

__Ryan touches his own lips as Mark turns to Matt. His fingertips are damp and warm. He touches as if to test that it really happened._ _

__“It’s sorta like that,” Mark says, jumping back into the previous conversation of shot gunning. Ryan scrambles to pick up the thread, to ease back into the scene like Mark has, “Except without the kissing, you know, unless you wanna?” Mark is teasing, maybe, but Matt laughs, in that tittering and bird-like way, the kind that exposes how nervous he really is._ _

__“I’ll leave that to you and Ryan,” Matt says, “But shot gunning sounds okay.”_ _

__“Cool,” Mark says, nodding his head. He takes a deep pull from the joint again, it’s growing stubby in his hand and soon it will die out completely. That tar like smell of the dying joint fills Ryan’s nose and through his haze of kissing Mark and the weed swimming inside his head, he tunes in long enough to watch Mark lean in towards Matt, his hand huge on Matt’s scrawny shoulder, keeping Matt still._ _

__Ryan watches as Mark blows out the smoke and Matt obediently breathes it in, stealing the wisps of silver from Mark’s lungs, drawing it into his own. They look good, and something stirs inside of Ryan, not jealousy, something deeper, something that feels like that slithery nervous feeling he had when he was kissing Mark._ _

__Matt takes the hit and the two of them sit back. Mark offers the joint to Ryan, seeing if he wants what will likely be the last hit. Ryan shakes his head. Mark draws in the last hit, taking the joint down the dregs. He leans forward, letting Matt and Ryan meet eyes for the first time in a few minutes. Ryan has an idea stirring in his head, one that has him licking his lips, catching the remnants of smoke and Mark._ _

__“Odds are,” Ryan starts, “You do kiss Mark.”_ _

__Matt’s eyes go a little wide, but he’s smiling, like he’s come to expect this sort of thing out of Ryan._ _

__Mark leans back with a snort._ _

__“I’m flattered.”_ _

__“To twenty.”_ _

__Usually if it’s something Matt really, really doesn’t want to do, the numbers will be high. Twenty is pretty low, not quite risky enough to be guaranteed to do it, but not high enough that it’s out of the question._ _

__Ryan grins, “One, two…three.”_ _

__He and Matt take a breath, Mark watching with an odd grin._ _

__“Five.”_ _

__They say it in unison, voices joined. Ryan grins and Matt looks flabbergasted. It might be a dick move, but Ryan knows by now that Matt goes low, knows that five is a lucky number for him, and knows that the weed dulling his senses has him more likely to choose it._ _

__“How the fuck…” Matt murmurs, but he’s a champ. He hardly ever truly backs down from an ‘odds are’ or any kind of embarrassing bet for that matter. Ryan smiles, trying not to let the nervous excitement at the prospect of Mark and Matt kissing be too obvious._ _

__“Alright, come on,” Ryan says, waving a hand between the two of them._ _

__Mark lets out a deep bubbling laugh, the kind that’s contagious and has Ryan and Matt both grinning. Matt licks his lips and turns to face Mark._ _

__“This is really awkward,” Matt mumbles._ _

__“Only if you let it be,” Ryan says._ _

__“It’ll be fast,” Mark says, “I think I’m a good kisser? Ryan? Can you vouch for this?”_ _

__“Yeah,” Ryan says, “You’re good.” He rubs at his chin, “Matt’s shit though.”_ _

__“Ryan!” Matt whines._ _

__Ryan and Mark both laugh, but then Mark’s hand is on Matt’s cheek and the laughter dies down. Mark’s thumb strokes the dimple near Matt’s mouth. Ryan’s chest is weird and heavy. He’s never felt like this being high before, he thinks this must be from watching them._ _

__Then Matt is leaning in to meet Mark, and then they’re kissing. Ryan won’t admit that his cock stirs in interest, and how beautiful the two of them looked framed in the darkness, highlighted by the city lights surrounding them. The kiss isn’t anything overtly romantic, the same way it was for Mark and Ryan, but they make a pretty sight together._ _

__Ryan’s fingers itch for a camera, for some way to capture this. It’s that filmmakers’ eye. He wants them in shadow, just outlines of people, just keeping the scene, preserving it forever as it is right now; Matt’s eyes closed, lashes long on his pale cheeks, Mark’s hand still touching Matt’s face, every speck of light sinking into the blonde of Matt’s hair._ _

__Then the kiss is over, and the two of them are breaking apart, and the only place that Ryan has the kiss is in his head, trying to lock it in place._ _

__Mark pats Matt’s cheek and then leans back against the cushions._ _

__“Ryan’s not giving you enough credit,” Mark says._ _

__“Thanks,” Matt says. Ryan can’t prove it, but he thinks that Matt’s cheeks are a soft red._ _

__The three of them sit in a silence that isn’t quite awkward but isn’t as comfortable as it was before. Ryan can tell whatever magic was in the moment has passed, has turned from a serene sort of night, back into an ordinary kind of night, like when Cinderella’s carriage transformed back into a pumpkin at the stroke of midnight._ _

__Maybe it’s because Ryan is slowly sobering up, the world shifting back into place around him. He’s still comfortable and warm tucked between the edge of the couch and Mark, the blanket strewn over his lap and Mark’s thigh pressing against Ryan’s leg._ _

__He yawns and tips his head back, settles contently in against the softness surrounding him. Maybe the night isn’t so static, it doesn’t have to be ordinary. He can smell Mark and Matt surrounding him, and if he concentrates he can still feel the warm chapped roughness of Mark’s mouth when it had been against his own._ _

__Ryan holds on to that feeling, humming a little as his eyes fall closed. He listens to Mark tell some story to Matt, a story Ryan’s heard before, but the smooth deepness of Mark’s voice is comforting as it vibrates into Ryan’s skin._ _


End file.
